


Cooped Up

by SonjaJade



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Costumes, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Lost a Bet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 01:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10426596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonjaJade/pseuds/SonjaJade
Summary: Never, ever bet against Falman.





	

**Author's Note:**

> FMA Fic Contest prompt "Chicken"

Lt. Hawkeye had intended to open the door to the office on Monday morning and hang her coat up on the rack, hang Hayate’s leash on the next peg, then turn and cross the room to get a cup of coffee and begin her day.  But instead, she stopped short of even closing the door behind her.  
  
“What’s the holdup, Lieutenant?” her commander asked, standing roughly three feet behind her and to the left.  
  
Unable to verbally answer him, she stepped into the room and let him see for himself.  
  
Fuery, Havoc and Braeda were sitting in their chairs wearing bright yellow chicken costumes, outfits that Hayate thought needed a more thorough investigation through sniffing and nipping.  Mustang chuckled as he hung up his coat.  “Well, what happened this time?”  
  
“Lost a bet, sir,” Falman smiled over his cup of steaming tea.  He waved a stray feather away from his cup.  “You know these men can’t resist a good bet.”  
  
“I take it you won said bet, then.”  Roy sat down and glared at the paperwork piled on the desk.  He immediately found distraction in Hayate, whom Riza had finally released.  
  
Falman’s grin broadened.  “Indeed I did, sir.”  
  
“What did the bet concern?” Riza asked as she reached out to touch Fuery’s head.  There were real feathers in the costume, and the red comb atop his head was made of soft felt.  
  
Falman replied, “Friday night, they convinced me to go out to the bar with them.  Apparently they mistook my calculating observation of the room as being shy and too timid to approach a woman.  Then they mistook my quietness as admission of said qualities.  So I made them a bet that if I didn’t leave with a woman on my arm, I would come in today dressed as a chicken and work that way for a whole week- and that if I did leave with a woman, they would have to dress as chickens for a week.”  
  
Mustang smirked.  “If I’d said that they would’ve known better.”  
  
Riza sat down and looked at Havoc, who was working diligently for once and blowing feathers out of his face every now and then.  His face burned with embarrassment and she shook her head.  “You guys never learn.  Never, ever bet against Falman.  Remember the time you bet him he couldn’t name all the Xingese Emperors after a fifth of whiskey?  And not only did he name them, but gave the years they reigned, as well as birthdates and death dates?  And you all had to wear Xingese dresses to the bar the next night?”  
  
“I remember,” Braeda groaned.  “Trying to find a dress that fit my fat ass was murder.”  
  
“And then there was the time you bet him a week’s pay that he couldn’t eat forty eggs in one sitting.  Man,” Mustang grinned, “I even lost on that one.”  
  
Falman raised his tea cup toward his commander.  “And I appreciated your donation, sir.”  
  
Havoc scratched at his head and feathers went flying.  “I still don’t know how he did it.  It was almost closing time and he walked up to a woman who’d only been there maybe ten minutes.”  
  
“Yes, and you guys were slobbering drunk and she saw I wasn’t.  She actually thought I was supposed to be driving you home and almost didn’t take me up on my offer.”  
  
“Hey, wait a sec-” Braeda interjected.  “We said you had to show us proof that you’d taken her to bed!  How do we know those panties you showed us weren’t from a boutique!”  That seemed to give Fuery and Havoc hope about getting out of the suits.  
  
Falman sipped his tea.  “Didn’t you read the inside of them?”  
  
The three men gave each other puzzled looks, then Braeda found the pair of panties in question being thrown onto his desk.  Fuery leaned over and peered into the purple britches.  In black ink was written, “Vato says it tastes just like chicken!”  Under that was drawn a smiley face and bore a flourished set of initials and the date on Friday.  
  
“If you think I’m going to a boutique to get a clerk to write that on a pair of new panties, you’re crazy.”  
  
They all groaned and got back to work, Mustang congratulating Falman on his victory, and Riza wondering if maybe she hadn’t chosen the right career path.


End file.
